I Have a Complaint to Make
by Jelly Princess
Summary: James Patterson has some... unexpected visitors. Unexpected and extremely TICKED OFF visitors. One-shot. Contains spoilers for ANGEL. Did you hate that book? Did you think ANGEL was totally screwed up? R&R!


**Yo yo yo! It's me again, bringing you another HILARIOUS parody by yours truly! Well, it's not really a parody. But it brought me much satisfaction. So did checking out ANGEL at my school library this morning.**

**Star: *rolls eyes* Are you kidding me? You threw the book at the wall. And then at the ground. And ranted to your friends about how screwed up it was and tried to get them to join FanFiction.**

**Me: Shut up. I haven't introduced you yet. **

**Star: Whatever. Can I have another hot dog?**

**Me: Knock yourself out. Guys, this is Star, I she's my MR captive. Those of you who have read ANGEL, you may remember her. Those of you who haven't, well... SPOILER ALERT!**

**Disclaimer: A world where we need disclaimers is very saddening indeed. Use your heads, people! Or Google!**

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><p>Third Person POV<p>

James Patterson rested his fingers on the keyboard and began to type.

_I sighed. Oh, Fang, what I wouldn't give for you to be here right now!_

He sat back, exhausted. "So, that's 20 chapters down... how many left?"

JP was rather... worn out, you could say. Very stressed. He had to work on the next Alex Cross book, the next Witch & Wizard book, among a bunch of other things. But first, he had to finish THE END OF MAXIMUM RIDE. Such a dramatic title.

JP realized he was talking to himself and looked around guiltily, even though he was alone in his office.

Anyways, the fans were getting rather... antsy. He had made an amazing sequel and what did he get? Billions of fans throwing their copies of ANGEL at their walls. Writing about killing him on FanFiction. Making a petition to stop Robert Pattinson and Kristen Stewart from being in the movie. That last part had actually pleased him, just a bit, but wanting to kill him? Not so much.

James continued to type until he was interrupted by a knock on his door.

"Come in," he called rather absentmindedly.

JP looked up as a tall, muscular, blond-haired boy came into his room, glaring.

"What the..." he sputtered. "What? No, no, I'm imagining this. I need more coffee..."

Dylan rolled his eyes.

"You're not real, you're not real, you're not real..." JP chanted under his breath.

"I'm perfectly real," he said, insulted.

"I created you! That's not... that's not right! I'm hallucinating."

"Well, I wonder how People Magazine would react to that. James Patterson doing drugs!"

"I'm not doing drugs!" He snapped, and searched around his cluttered desk for his coffee.

"Will you just listen to me?" Dylan snarled back.

"What you do you want, figment of my imagination?"

"I have a complaint to make," he said. "In the last book... I was not portrayed as I would like to be. I was obsessed with Max and a creeper. You've made me a bad character! I love Max, but seriously, you WAY overdid it!"

"It was character development," James Patterson said nervously.

"It's the seventh book! I should already be 'developed'!" Dylan snapped, doing air quotations around 'developed'.

"I was introducing you!"

"You made a crappy introduction! It would have been better for me to rescue them or something, then for me to be described as Max's perfect other half and throw me in there!"

"You're a fake mutant bird kid! What do you know about writing a book?"

"I know how to survive, and that's close enough. But mark my words - you are writing the best finale ever or I will HUNT. YOU. DOWN," Dylan hissed, his voice cold and his body tense. Then he stalked out of the room angrily.

James Patterson sat there for a moment, scared to death. He watches the door nervously for a few minutes.

He's just starting to relax when somebody flings it open again.

Iggy walks into the room furiously. "You!"

"I don't talk to figments of my imagination," JP said nervously. He's visibly sweating.

"I have a complaint to make," Iggy snaps. "I was barely mentioned at all in the book, and then I was brainwashed by my almost-girlfriend, then the flock had to rescue me. I can take care of myself! That was my only major part, the rest of it was about that stupid love triangle between Max, Dylan, and Fang."

"It was-"

"Character development? Yeah, I've been here for the last six books, my character has already developed."

JP started to shake. "I- uh... is there anything, you, er, want in the last book?"

"I want more time with Ella, I want an important role, and I want my sight," Iggy said sardonically.

"I don't think-"

"If you don't, you will regret it." He said in a matter-of-fact way.

Then he left, hands in his pockets, whistling like he had not a care in the world.

James Patterson took a cold water bottle, opened it, and poured the water all over his head.

He shook himself like a wet dog, and feeling refreshed, was just about to turn back to his computer when the door flung open again.

"I have a complaint to make," Fang said flatly.

"Don't bother. I created you, and I'm not going to listen to you. In fact, I'll have Max hate you forever in the last book. How does that sound?" James smirked.

"You know how many fangirls will destroy you and boycott you forever?"

"Fine. Make your complaint, then leave! I have important work to do."

"In the last book, you made it appear that I needed Max too much. Yes, I love Max, but that makes it extremely stupid to leave her for 20 years and replace her! I'm not stupid, _James_. And I want myself to get over Max in the finale. I want to still be alive, I want both of my flocks to be happy and one big family, and I want things to be the way they were, without you coming and screwing up our lives."

Fang left, without James to say a word. Soon after, the door blasted open and ripped off of it's hinges.

Max.

Oh, poor JP.

"I hate you," she seethed. "If you had finished the last book by now, I would fly a hundred miles up while carrying you (that would be no easy task, considering your weight) and do some 'Flock Splatter Art'. You're lucky, though, and you haven't screwed it up yet. Well, let me tell you something: _I have a complaint to make._"

James felt like crawling under his desk.

"I was portrayed as a needy, helpless _wimp _in ANGEL. And if you don't fix that, well..."

Max grinned. "We're going to come after you."

JP crawled under his desk.

"So much for an all-powerful writer," she scoffed.

"Wow, he's, like, ancient!" A different voice said.

"You're right, Gazzy - he's like a hundred years old!" Nudge said. "Is he dead?"

"No, but he sure is scared," Angel chimed in. "By the way, James, I really don't like being dead. It's boring."

"Yo, guys, done torturing him yet? We still got to go scare the pants off of Catherine Hardwicke," Iggy snickered.

"Can we stop at a vending machine first? I've got a craving for Snicker's bars," Fang said.

"I vill now destroy de Snickuhs bahs!" Gazzy mimicked.

They all burst into laughter. James Patterson shivered.

_This was his worst nightmare._

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><p><strong>Me: Star, isn't that your 13th hot dog?<strong>

**Star: They're small, okay? And I'm hungry!**

**Me: *sigh* So. This was fun. And Catherine Hardwicke is the one who wanted Robert Pattinson and Kristen Stewart to play Fang and Max for the MR movie. Thankfully, that idea has been PWNED. **

**Random sentence: I actually said fnick today and got my friends to say it. =D**

**R&R?**


End file.
